PROVE YOURSELF. Ta﻿ke the quiz. Or suffer the consequences.

Ye posers beware! Turn back now while you still can. Answer the questions below and submit your answers to the form at the end of the quiz. Each correct answer is worth 1 point. The person with the MOST points will not only be able to say that they are not a POSER but will also win FREE merchandise from HAZMART. Hurry! The contest ends at midnight on Thursday. Good luck!

Answer in the form of a question.

1. Lets start out with a nice warm up. All this man wanted was a pepsi.

7. You are standing high atop a frozen mountain peak at a Scandinavian Black Metal recital. Amongst the crowd a number of metalheads with corpse face paint are standing in a torchlit circle with a pentagram in the middle. They are evenly spaced and the 7th metalhead is directly opposite the 18th metalhead. How many metalheads are in the circle?

Traveling with KING DIAMOND

8. King Diamond is driving 50 mph in a horse drawn carriage under a full moon through a fog covered haunted backroad en route to his next concert. His destination is 125 miles away and the band takes the stage at exactly midnight. The time is 9:30 PM. How long will it take him to arrive at the concert. Will he make it in time?

TRIP AT THE BRAIN TEASERS BONUS QUESTIONS: 2 POINTS EACH!

A. The HAZMAN wanted to get into the VIP section of a JUDAS PRIEST concert. So he hid behind some large MARSHALL amplifiers and watched the guard at the door of the backstage. The guard said a number to each person as they approached, and the member would respond with a number of their own. If the member responded with the correct number they were let in. If they responded incorrectly they were thrown out and called a POSER. One member came up to the door, the guard said twelve, and the member responded with six and was let in. Another member came to the door, the guard said six and the member responded with three and was let in. Believing he had heard enough, the HAZMAN went up to the guard. The guard said ten, and the HAZMAN said five, but was denied access, verbally demoralized and called a POSER. What should the HAZMAN have said?

B. A broke ass heavy metal vinyl collector had spent all of his paychecks on many rare and precious vinyl records. He did not want anybody to know about them. One day, his wife said, "It is time to throw all of that garbage away. How many of those damn vinyls do you have?" After pausing he cleverly replied, "Well! If I divide the vinyl albums into two unequal numbers, then 32 times the difference between the two numbers equals the difference between the squares of the two numbers. Figure that shit out and I will allow thee to dispose of my grand vinyl collection."

Help the merchant's wife by finding out how many vinyl albums her husband owns?

HURRY! Submit your answers below!

There hasn't been much activity on here lately so what better way to dust off the HAZBLOG than with an old interview from THRASHER magazine with Cyco Mike of SUICIDAL TENDENCIES. Someday HAZMAT will be this cool. But until then it is all SURF and SLAM!

It is odd how the universe works. Quite miraculous when you really take a look at the world around you. The collision and interaction of ultra-specific elements can spark brilliant and/or sometimes catastrophic reactions. Some would call these events fate or acts of god. Others would consider them pure coincidence. The story of Ricky and the man who drank macchiatos is no exception. He came into the busy coffee house at the same time every day. His skin was sickly pale with a grim and bony facial structure. He ordered the same drink every day. Iced caramel macchiato, an odd request for such an odd man. He sat in the same corner, pulled out his dog-eared sketchpad, a sharpened pencil and resided for hours illustrating and drinking endless macchiatos.

At this same coffee shop worked an aspiring young boy named Ricky. He was like any other teenage kid; curious, creative with an appreciation for the arts and skateboarding. He was responsible and did well in school.

Ricky had always taken notice of this peculiar man but did not think much of him until one day he caught a brief glimpse of one of his illustrations. Although it was only a glimpse, it was enough to send shivers down his spine and turn his extremities ice cold. From that brief encounter Ricky's mind was tormented with chaotic visions of exhumed corpses, broken skulls and other ghastly images reminiscent of the Book of Revelations. Like a festering spider bite Ricky's curiosity began to consume him. Everything about the man fascinated Ricky. Who was he? Where did he come from? What he was drawing and why did he drink so many goddamn iced caramel macchiatos? Every day, there he was, hunched over his sketchbook in deep concentration illustrating his scenes of the macabre.

One day, Ricky could take it no more and decided to approach the man. Nervous and somewhat scared, he tentatively approached the dark corner where the man furiously sketched, with his face just inches from the surface of his sketchpad. Suddenly the man jerked upright like an alert viper staring through Ricky's retinas and into his young soul. Startled, Ricky almost stepped back. There was an eerie silence in the air and time seemed to stop. Ricky could not look away from the ocular stranglehold. An arid sensation filled Ricky's throat and mouth before he finally choked out, "W-Wh-What is that you are drawing?" The man answered with an oddly welcoming demeanor. "It is for a publication that I run. A magazine of sorts." He glanced at Ricky's skateboard shoes. "Do you skateboard?" he asked with a gleam in his eyes. "Yep! Every day. I love it!" Ricky began to speak with a sense of courage. The man took a sip from his macchiato, swallowed, furrowed his brow and smiled mysteriously as he spoke. "Well then I think you will like my magazine." Ricky's ears perked up. He was now even more intrigued. "You see this magazine is all about blood, guts, rock & roll and of course lots AND lots of skateboarding." Ricky's eyes widened. He could barely contain his curiosity and asked "Where could I find a copy of this magazine???" The man responded, "It is funny you should ask, because I happen to have a copy with me." Ricky's jaw dropped as the man reached into his bag and pulled out the magazine. He held it out and just as Ricky began to reach for the magazine the man pulled it away "Be careful Ricky. What lies within these pages is beyond your worst nightmares. Are you sure you are worthy of perusing its gory depths?” Without hesitation Ricky nodded with determination. "Very well then," the man spoke. His eyes blazed with fire as he handed the magazine over. Ricky snatched the magazine greedily. The man whispered conspiratorially, "Enjoy. Just keep it secret." As the man finished his sentence a barista in a slick Nazi haircut, V-neck t-shirt and thick-rimmed, non-prescription glasses shouted from the front counter, "RICKY! Cappuccino and espresso shot to Matilda at table five! On the double!" Ricky had almost forgotten he was at work. He rolled up the magazine, stuffed it into his back pocket and went to take care of the order. Suddenly, he realized that he forgot to thank the man. He turned around but to his astonishment the man was nowhere to be seen. He was gone.

A week went before the man returned to the coffee shop. The snobby barista with the slick Nazi haircut, kitten tattoo and thick-rimmed, non-prescription glasses slouched apathetically behind the counter with his arms crossed. "Wuddya need?" the barista asked with a snide attitude. "Iced Caramel Macchiato," said the man raising one eyebrow in response. As the barista prepared his order the man asked, "Where is that sprite young kid who I always see busing tables, doesn't he work today?" The barista looked up. He seemed irritated as if the man had asked him how his day was. "Ricky? You mean the little skateboard punk?" said the barista. "I believe so," said the man. The barista shook his head in disgust. "Pff! That little brat blew it! He doesn't work here anymore." "Oh?" the man said as the barista continued. "Ricky came in to his shift one morning, grabbed his free daily pastry out of the case and just walked out. Skateboarded away with that weird magazine in his hand. And now I've had to cover for his ass." The barista was hard to hear over the steamer. "A weird magazine?" inquired the man. "Yeah, he said he found it somewhere. We tried to take it away from him because we would always catch him reading it on the job. It's like it was his bible or something." "How strange." The man said in a peculiar tone. "Whatever! I never liked that little poser anyway. Here’s your iced caramel macchiato!" said the barista. The man took his sugary morning brew and as he began to turn away the barista spoke to him. "Wait. Aren't you that guy who is always drawing shit? Are you an artist or something?" The man turned slowly. "I am many things." The man grimaced as he spoke. "The drawings are for a magazine that I publish." The barista listened silently. "It is a conglomerated abomination of all that is blood, guts, rock N roll and skateboarding!" The man stared at the barista. Feigning indifference, it was nevertheless obvious that the barista couldn't hide his curiosity about this hallowed magazine. Finally, no longer able to contain the urge, the barista spoke. "Where could I find a copy of this magazine?" The man’s eyes seemed to glow as he smiled malevolently. "Well, it is funny you should ask, because I happen to have a copy right here with me." With his bony fingers the man reached into his bag and pulled out the same issue he had given to Ricky. Slowly, knowingly, he handed it to the barista. The barista removed his glasses and his eyes widened with horrified recognition as he gasped... "Hazmat?"

\m/ ------ THE END ------ \m/

Images of Iced Caramel Macchiatos

HAZMAT haz been waiting a long time for the 2nd SPELLCASTER release. Despite our drastic efforts in attempting to convince them it was time to cut their hair and get a real job they still persisted. And the result is nothing short of a headbangers favorite ear bleeding nightmare come true. Give it a listen then buy it today!

Whoever said dogs didn't have a sense of humor must have been a cat lover. Sink your teeth into the photo gallery below to see the furry photographic proof that mans best friend sure does know how to have a good time.